Mister Black
by Metzgermeister
Summary: CROSSOVER - Being a Guardian means having to mean something for the children you interact with. Each guardian always ends up finding the one child that defines them the most. For Jack Frost it was Jamie. While Pitch was always seen as a heartless creature, he did find "his" child himself many years ago. This is their story.
1. Chapter I

He had always known that one day he would meet her personally, whether she was prepared for it or not. Being born with the ability to control ice and bring forth an improvised winter of sorts did doom anyone to a life of quietness and isolation, were someone to get hurt because of it. Princess Elsa of Arendelle had been chosen by Fate itself to carry such a heavy burden, and as the merciless Seers of Destiny would have it, disaster happened as soon as she began to grow, and with her, the gift that would follow her for the rest of her life.

He remembered the fear and despair in the young royal's eyes as she faintly called for her Mama and Papa after hitting her younger sister with a small blast of ice. Even though he was not particularly specialized in elemental magic, the lord of fear knew perfectly that the mind and the heart were two places especially dangerous to tamper with. Such knowledge was apparently shared by the pale blonde infant as she shrieked and trembled in horror, feeling her sister's life slip away. The rush of emotions and distress that coursed through her small being only heightened his power and influence, and yet he did not need to do a single thing; nor did he feel like it. Something about the tiny damsel in distress told him that whatever was about to happen was enough.

While he did need to feed regularly on their fear, Pitch had never been too interested in humans themselves. He found them overly sentimental and irritating, and would most likely go out of their way to rectify their excessive emotional attachments if he did not need those to survive. This case was an exception, though. Most of the times, the sons of Adam showed themselves to be petty, selfish and self-centered, which only served to justify his disdain towards them. Part of the reason why he brought them so much fear and agony was to force their better instincts out, he assumed. In the darkest of times, humans were capable of pulling off the most noble of feats, feats that had surprised the Nightmare King before. In that line of thought, seeing a mother and a father whose hearts should have logically been solidified into cold stone in order to sustain a country take their two infant daughters with themselves to the middle of the unknown forest was another case of curiosity for Pitch.

During the entire course of the trip, he was sure Elsa had noticed him floating above their sleighs more than once; yet the small child did not say anything. He was obviously striking some terror into her, but at that particular moment, the source of her fears was mostly directed to the fact that Anna might not recover from their little playtime accident. Either that or she was also too afraid to bother her father with something else. Pitch knew all too well how much children could be afraid of telling certain secrets to their parents. Still, seeing the little girl stare him straight in the eyes and not make him her priority came of as some kind of an offense to the Boogeyman, who eventually stayed behind to further analyze whatever was about to happen to the little girl.

There was always something about the trolls that had irked him quite a bit. In spite of not being any sort of Guardian themselves, the little rocky creatures made it their habit to constantly aid humans and other creatures in finding all sorts of magical solutions to improbable issues. While he would often have fun terrorizing them in a daily basis, this time he took a step back and watched as the elder troll erased the memories of the slowly dying child, effectively bringing her back to health, part of him frustrated for being deprived of the chance to exploit such a possible trauma between the two sisters. His initial contempt was eventually soothed upon the mention of what would have to be done about Elsa. Fear would be her eternal companion? He could definitely work with that. The young princess was indeed a gold mine when it came to extracting fear.

Soon, the walks in the snowy grounds became small circles marched on a closed bedroom, the warm hugs became frosty distance and the wish to build a snowman became an impossible dream for Elsa and Anna, their relationship of love being cut in half by the stigma of fear and prevention.

Pitch had to hand it to the King: he really knew how to permanently scar his children for life. He did not care at all, since it did give him a much wider playground to have fun in, but even he could tell that he was only damaging things further. Love was such a weak and easily bendable emotion. No wonder he avoided the Saint Valentine's Cupid at any chance he had.

Elsa was probably very much aware of him being in her room, silently observing her from the shadows. He could tell by her breath growing huskier and much more accelerated, and by her hands trembling as she accidentally froze the edge of the window she had been holding onto. While she initially turned her head around to call for her father in fear, she halted for an instant, a cold chill going through her tiny figure as she once again came face to face with the two amber orbs quietly stalking her in the darkness. Part of the young royal knew that if such a thing was out to harm her, Papa would not come in time to stop it, so she merely took a few steps back, eventually tripping over her own feet in fear, small ounces of tears forming on the corner of her eyes. At this turn of events, the Boogeyman merely shook his head and rolled his yellow eyes in slight annoyance, finding this display of terror too exaggerated for what he was aiming for at such a stage. Sighing softly with his long arms behind his back, his grey fingers interlinked with each other, Pitch stepped out of his hiding spot, every step he took further terrifying the little girl until he halted mere inches from her.

"Don't scream." - He murmured in his soft, whispery voice, his slightly sharp teeth made visible for Elsa for an ounce of a second, which in turn only made her recoil in horror once again.

"W-what?" – she eventually blurted out in a faint tone that made it feel as if she was slowly being choked by his very presence. Even though her entire being was partly composed of ice, she was trembling in every single spot of her tiny body as this tall, grey skinned man with spiky onyx hair and devilish amber eyes stared down at her with a disturbing scowl.

"You heard me. Don't. Scream."

"W-who are you?"

"They call me The Boogeyman. I go by the name of Pitch Black."

"Why…can't I scream? You're the boogeyman…"

"Because it's no fun if you start screaming so early. These things must take time."

"Why?"

"That's just the way things are."

"Oh…why aren't you hiding under my bed?"

Upon this question from the little infant, Pitch raised his eyebrow, taking slight offense to her remark, especially to the ones who had most likely misinformed her about what he did and how he did it. Well, while it was true he did have fun hiding under children's beds, it was not as if he called it a home or anything of sorts. The Nightmare King had obvious standards, and did not like to have his pride questioned by anyone. He could tell she had gotten his irritation, for she had crawled into an even more hesitant position of uncomfortableness.

"Excuse me?"

"Mama always told me the Boogeyman hid under beds to scare children. You were next to the door…why?"

"Because I don't hide under beds!" he declared in a slightly louder tone, frowning at his own lie before looking away slightly ashamed and murmuring loud enough for her to understand his words. "Not all the time…"

After seeing the more intimidating man answer her in such an awkward manner, the usually quiet and withdrawn princess temporarily dropped her expression of fear and hesitance, letting a soft smile creep up her lips as she covered her mouth, hoping he had not seen her. Pitch's following retort would prove her otherwise, even though that much to the surprise of both of them he did not return to acting hostile.

"What's so funny, little girl?"

"Oh…nothing at all, Mister Black! Don't worry about it…"

"What did you just call me?"

"Mister Black? Well…you said your name was Pitch Black…and Papa always told me you have to call older people 'Mister'. It sounds nice."

"You're a polite little thing, aren't you, little doll?"

She smiled softly at him, nodding hesitantly as she got up, her hands holding each other in front on her small dress as her sapphire eyes met his amber ones. For some reason, talking to what was supposed to be fear itself in the form of a grown man seemed natural now that the two had struck a slightly strange conversation. While annoyed that he was not getting his way with her, Pitch did find her reactions to be interesting, so he kept retorting.

"I'm a good girl…I always have to be."

"Being a good girl won't mean I won't be around, you know? The Boogeyman goes after the good and the bad children."

"Will you come tonight, Mister Black?"

"That's not of your concern."

"Papa won't like it if you come, though, Mister Black…"

"Papa doesn't believe me, so he won't see me. It makes no difference."

"If people don't believe you they stop seeing you?"

This one took him slightly off guard, seeing that she might have figured out what made him and other Guardians tick. While he was not technically authorized to lie to her, especially since he did not believe in telling lies himself, he did have to play his cards carefully as to not lose anything.

"Likely. You'll keep seeing me, though. We've talked. You know I am real. Why would you not believe I'm here?"

"I believe you, Mister Black. You know I do. I'm talking to you."

"You are. So that means you'll see me again sometime later. I can either come today, or perhaps tomorrow or a week later. I don't know. I come when I want."

"So you're coming tonight!" – she said a bit out loud with a small giggle before assuming her calmer posture again, which made Pitch take a step back and sigh in annoyance at her remark. She was apparently having fun with him and he was allowing it. Something was not right at all.

"…Yes. Yes I am." – he confessed with an irritated scowl as he turned his back on her and began walking towards the shadows, complaining quietly about what had happened and why the event was the reason why he never interacted with others.

Elsa merely walked towards her bed and playfully hoped into it, moving her legs ever the slightest as she watched the incredibly tall man slowly fade away into the darkness of her room, likely to return that evening. For a Boogeyman he did not seem to be that bad of a person, even though some parts of him bothered her. Perhaps he had been locked in a room too and could never build a snowman ever again.

Letting herself fall back on the bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she sighed softly and breathed in, her usual melancholy was replaced by a soft smile of hope as she mused that perhaps she did not have to be alone in the room and that perhaps the Boogeyman was the one person she could play with without hurting. Yes, it would go well. It had to.

Her blue orbs of innocence darting away into the corner once again, she smiled softly and whispered in her ever so quiet tone.

"See you later, Mister Black."


	2. Chapter II

Ever since Elsa, princess of Arendelle had been born, the kingdom could never say it enjoyed a fully heated summer in comparison to the years prior to her coming. No one outside of the King and the Queen knew that while their firstborn was around, the most they'd get out of the natural flow of the world would be a few months of vague sunny bliss and lack of icy temperatures.

Fear was always present when such mysterious series of events took place, and the constant presence of pure white snow was without a doubt a very significant spark to ignite the belief that the young monarch's birth had something to do with it.

While Pitch at first had expected paranoia from the theories that went on to be formed about the situation, which would most likely lead to protests or even more drastic reactions by those who were to terrified of any oddity; the suspicions and beliefs of the crowd eventually shifted to a more positive light, since most people came to accept that the constant presence of snow was a sign of the princess's purity and that she would be a compassionate and strong leader.

In any other circumstance, the Nightmare King would have been majorly upset at the depriving of a large source of fear for him to feed, which was exactly what had transpired in Arendelle. He knew, however, that this was not an ordinary circumstance at all. For once ever since he could remember, he was deeply intrigued by a human child; in this case, the very source of whatever would shake up the realm's faith.

The conversations between him and Elsa had become slightly frequent, seeing that he would often visit her in the improvised mental prison cell that was her room. Most of the times, not too many words would be exchanged between both of them, seeing that Pitch was not particularly attempting to induce any sort of terror upon the girl, and that Elsa had become incredibly shy and slightly awkward when it came to talking in a non-cordial situation.

When it came right down to it, their encounters were a complete absence of the purpose they were given. There was no need for Pitch Black to be the Boogeyman, nor was there the need for Elsa to be the good girl she always had to be.

Being put in a situation they were completely unprepared for, it normally meant that both would not talk a lot whenever they saw each other; since Pitch was, much to his chagrin, embarrassed by the fact that he was allowing a child to see him as something other than a fear monger, making him usually hide when he came to visit; many times just to see if she was doing well enough.

Talking was not truly important, though. Most of the time, being aware of each other's presence was enough for both to feel balanced enough in each other's company. Elsa was alone in her little corner of the universe, told how the world was not ready for her; and the Nightmare King himself was the living proof of how one's gifts could condemn a person to a life of isolation. In their silent solitude, the little girl and the monster were each other's deepest confidents, even if they never opened their mouths.

Pitch eventually began pondering the chance that their strange relationship was their own way of reaching other levels of what they could do. Did that meant he was using the little girl? It was kind of his purpose to make people's fears and worries into his toys. But what if it was actually the other way around? Elsa was a scared and lonely little girl who was constantly fed the idea that she was holding a monster inside her, only containable through the lack of feelings. Was her relationship with the very entity of fear a way for the tiny monarch to overcome her demons? Was she even aware she was doing that?

To even consider the chance that he was being played by a little girl only seemed to fuel the embarrassment Pitch felt about the entire basis of their connection. In a way, sparing this girl from his influence was deeply harming him, seeing that he could feel his powers dwindle at every moment that passed, as if the familiar smiles she shot him whenever she saw him or noticed his presence had been sucking out the source of his powers.

Out of all the thoughts that coursed through the Nightmare King's mind, the one that involved asserting his position as a fear entity and casting his dark shadow upon Elsa once more grew constantly. It would not be a difficult task, after all. She was already shy and introverted, which made it easy for him to take advantage of her insecurities. Heck, a little bit of effort, and he could make her break down. It was all there, in the palm of his hand. All he had to do was take action, and everything would go steady again.

He could do it. He would do it. He had already started, even as his figure marched through the halls of the palace of Arendelle. For some strange reason, Pitch enjoyed taking his time as he moved closer to his potential victims, as if it created some sort of an atmosphere. He was the big monster, coming to terrorize every child in the world as they cowered away from his inevitable arrival. It almost felt like a ritual he took pleasure in performing.

As he moved up the staircase that eventually led to the lonely princess's room, Pitch hesitated as a figure crossed paths with him, both coming to a stop, albeit for different reasons. The King was a fully grown man with firm beliefs that made the boogeyman a mere tale, making Pitch completely invisible in his eyes. The fear monger, however, found himself stopped dead in his tracks just by the sheer confrontation of each other's eyes.

Seeing that most of his interest was devoted to children, making them his sole object of study; the Nightmare King had forgotten how deeply profound and rich an adult's mind could be when one looked such a being in the eye. This monarch was no exception to that. In fact, being confronted deep with the very windows of his soul, Pitch was mesmerized by the fear that escaped through them.

He could look into his entire trail of thoughts so easily, but the fact that was an open book of this sort was a shock for the boogeyman, in a way. Everything was clear, everything was obvious. Above fear, he could see deep hatred in the eyes of the man who had just recently left his daughter's bedroom. Pitch's nature initially made him assume the royal's object of contempt was the princess inside the mental cell, but even he could not deny that all the loathing that was inside the King was directed at his own self. Yes, it was true. The monarch was afraid of what his little treasure could do to others, and for that he too was afraid of himself. Such fear became the source of a hatred that slowly consumed him from within, all to be left with merely pain at his actions.

The implications of the Arendelle ruler's mental state was something Pitch Black wanted nothing to do with, much to his own surprise; seeing how quickly he turned away from the monarch to march forth in his path, trying to get his focus back on to what was really important. He would get inside the room and unceremoniously scare the little princess that stood inside it in order to regain his own sense of freedom and purpose.

Humans were truly foolish beings in his mind, and he had the need to rectify the faults he had been committing over the past few weeks.

Everything was going according to plan as soon as he felt his entire being pass through the door like the hollow specter he was seen as. As usual, it was slightly darkened, the main source of light being the fireplace lit nearby. This made the environment all the more cryptic and comfortable for him to act in. To add things up, he could see the young royal close to the window, obviously distracted with something, which also gave him the surprise element. This would be too easy.

Stealthily moving through the shadows of the division, his amber eyes gaining their normal demonic glow once more, the fearsome creature opened his arms, all of its remaining forces summoned as he prepared to attack the helpless child in front of him. Ready to lunge at her, he suddenly found his movements halted when he casually noticed a rather peculiar trait in the girl.

She had gloves in her hands.

He could not understand why it had such an effect on him, but a sudden rush of hesitation and awkwardness overtook him as he lost his composure and stumbled around a little, denouncing his presence, seeing how the tiny monarch was quick to turn her head, gazing at him with her sapphire eyes.

"Hello, Mister Black. How are you doing today?" she suddenly asked in her faint whispery voice, the delicate smile he had grown accustomed to manifesting on the corners of her lip, which only drove him to new levels of awkwardness.

He was the very entity of fear. He was the darkness that cast a shadow on darkness itself. Yet he could not bring himself to bring any sort of harm towards the tiny creature so easily destroyable that stood right next to him. It made no sense to him and only made him feel at a loss.

"I'm fine, actually. Just had a run in with some problems you needn't worry about." he quickly retorted, regaining his composure immediately next to her as his eyes were fixated on the window. "What are those things in your hand?"

Elsa was slightly taken aback as well when she heard his reply in the form of a question that muted her usual cordial greetings. Her stare was now directed straight at her tiny hands, concealed by the greenish blue fabric given to her minutes ago by her beloved father.

"Papa gave these to me, Mister Black. He said they'd help me with…you know."

"How exactly do two gloves help?"

"Well…Papa said they help me conceal the ice. If I don't touch things, I can't freeze them. So that way I can hide it…" she murmured, trying to explain the King's line of thought when he gave her the newest source of concealment and lack of feeling, eventually being at a loss of words, for this was strange for her.

"You know he's afraid of you, don't you?"

"He's not, Mister Black…he never would be."

"What makes you so sure of that? Why wouldn't he be afraid of you?"

"Because he's my Papa…and that's what parents do. They protect us!"

Pitch could only roll his eyes at the exchange of words he was having with Elsa. Somehow, the little child always found a way of making him feel awkward and out of place when it came to debating. He did not know it if came from the fact that she was incredibly intelligent or from the fact that he had a very limited knowledge of how the world worked.

"That is just strange. It makes no sense." he scoffed as his eyes darted away from her, his cranky muttering echoing through the room when he turned his back on her, seemingly to retreat from the source of his hesitance.

"It doesn't need to make any sense, Mister Black. It's just the way things are…I'm sure your Papa did the same for you, before." the little monarch suggested as she eyed him when he moved away from her, fidgeting her tiny fingers against each other as she tried to follow after him.

"I have no father nor mother, so I wouldn't know." was the only sort of comeback that Pitch could muster when confronted with her little argument.

"Of course you did…everyone has a Papa and a Mama, Mister Black. That's why we are here. Maybe you just don't remember them. That doesn't mean they're not real!"

"Even if that is true, they're just memories. What do they matter? What's gone is gone. I don't care about that."

The next reply drove the Boogeyman to halt, being left with a total loss of words, for he did not know how to react to it.

"I do, Mister Black. That must mean something to you, no?"

"Maybe it does." he once again retorted after another short moment of silence that seemed to drag on forever.

The Nightmare King did know he could somehow access some of his memories if he got into the Tooth Fairy's world. He loathed her just as much as he loathed all the other Guardians, but he was very much aware that she held the key to the long emptiness that was his past. It was then that he realized he was inevitably scared of something as well. Was it all there was to him? He would not have minded before, but at the moment it was something that had started to trouble him.

"I bet you would be a great Papa, Mister Black…" Elsa's soft voice suddenly broke his trance once more, her tiny hands now wrapped around his larger grey one in a simple gesture that he would define as a sample of love if he could actually fully understand such an emotion.

"Why'd you say that, Elsa?" he asked back quietly, only noticing he had said her name when it was far too late. He never addressed a child by its name before, seeing them as mere tools for his existence to continue. Yet…he had just accepted this one as something different. Perhaps her belief in him did matter more than he imagined.

"Because you're always here when I need someone to talk to." was the simplest reply she could muster to expose to him, and yet it was the one who could shake him up the most. "You're a Guardian…"

Sighing and shaking his head as he allowed his thumb to caress her tiny gloved hands, Pitch nodded slowly, smiling a bit when he was sure she was not noticing him.

"Yes…I suppose you're right."


End file.
